Messenger
by Bamboofoxfire Productions
Summary: He was just a delivery boy, running errands to pay off his contract for indentured servitude to make it to the Colonies. He didn't ask to get caught up in some political conflict between his employer's best customer and a bunch of self-righteous killers trying to destroy the peace. [ACIII / FFXV crossover] [Assassin!Noct&Gladio&Ignis] [Templar!Ardyn&Prompto]
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Another co-written roleplay-turned-fanfic with a close buddy of mine, Corvin. Enjoy~ ; )

* * *

 **Messenger  
An Assassins Creed III and Final Fantasy XV Crossover  
**

* * *

The air is bitter, but its nothing a hat and thick jacket can't... somewhat... cure. Anyway, he won't be getting too cold, with how much he's going to be moving around.

He bids the master of the business a quick farewell over his shoulder before he's off to make his rounds, jogging along the icy cobblestone streets. He tries to be quick but careful, not wanting to slip on ice but wanting to make good time to his destinations. The snow over the city isn't thick, but it is somewhat of a hazard.

He collects a few things to be delivered from one part of town, things that were already half-paid for, and started heading to where they all needed to be delivered. He'd be able to collect the rest of the payment then, and with the cold weather and few wanting to venture into it, they should make quite a bit of money off of it.

He takes his route from one place to the next, all the while dodging through alleyways and between buildings to cut down on time. The city is a confusing maze to navigate, but he has practice and a good sense of direction, even just traversing it as the crow flies.

He slows to a stop as he goes down one long stretch of back alleys and isolated back yards when a man steps in his way ahead. Normally Prompto would just duck around people and keep going, but normally they didn't much mind his presence. The wide-footed stance of this man - _and a very big man at that_ \- was far too telling that his path was being blocked, and on purpose.

At first he didn't say anything, sizing the other up, wondering what he should do. Should he even engage in conversation at all? He knows he doesn't want any fights, but wouldn't it be weird if he just turned and ran the other way without a word? That'd make him look suspicious, wouldn't it? Not that he had any reason to be suspected of anything, but-

The man, which Prompto would say is easily the size of a grizzly bear, starts walking towards him, amber eyes beneath thick brows and framed by notable facial hair burning brightly like a fire that refused to go out. The intensity of those eyes on him is enough to make him nervous on its own.

"Hey," the man starts, putting on something of a faux-friendly tone overlaying the rough baritone of his voice. He even _sounds_ like a bear, or at least what Prompto would assume a bear to sound like if it could speak. "What's a kid like you doing out in this cold? You'll freeze your ass off if you're not careful. Do you need some help?"

The man pulls down his white hood to reveal a mess of wild, dark hair and offers him a smile, but he doesn't trust it, backing up to match the other step for step with his own deep blue eyes not leaving. He gets a good look at the white and red robes the other wears, with weapons lining his belt. The first word that comes to mind is _cultist_. The man's words are friendly enough at surface value but they feel insincere and ulterior, and he purses his lips with distrust. He only turns his head behind him in a quick snap, not wanting to take his sights off the man, but its enough to confirm a few things in his mind.

There's no one else around. There's no other alleys he could go down besides the one ahead and one behind him, and both are narrow. If this other man can move faster than him, he won't make it down them. The larger yard he's in is isolated, well-trapped on all sides by tall buildings other than the two exits. He's far too aware of how vulnerable of a position he's in if this man intends something bad for him, and he's largely uncertain he could fight him off with how much _bigger_ he is than Prompto. He's also far too aware that all these factors stacked against him feel all too deliberate.

He swallows nervously, answering tensely, "I'm fine. I can fend for myself. You're blocking my way." Even as he says 'blocking my way' as if he plans to move forward, he's leaning more towards back-tracking to the main street, where there are other people. Where he might be safer.

The main raises a bushy brow at him, appearing to size him up. "I just wanna talk." He hums, stopping and simply watching the blond. "So what do you say? Let's get out of this cold. Find a nice, warm place to talk."

Prompto knows he doesn't like the feel of this, the little tell-tale signs like eyes narrowing at him and arms crossing with a very business-like err, as if daring him to try anything. There's no reason this guy should have such a persistent interest in him completely at random. He wouldn't call himself smart but he's not _that_ stupid either.

"Name's Gladiolus. You can just call me Gladio though."

One hand tightens around the straps of his messenger bag anxiously, trying to steady his nerves, and subconsciously his head is tilted just a bit down so his hair partially hangs in his face. He wants to take a step back and put up more distance, but if he's going to bolt he doesn't want to give warning he's going to. A sudden run would be his best bet at gaining a head start, but maybe it won't come to that.

"Maybe later." More likely never. "I have places I need to be and I don't really have the time to waste stopping anywhere." As an afterthought, and maybe, hopefully, as a bit of a deterrent, he adds in, "People will be wondering where I am and come looking if I don't get a move on."

Prompto is watching him like a hawk and he knows he doesn't like the gusty sigh of resignation Gladio lets out as he shakes his burly head, the man uncrossing his arms and flexing his fingers. It tells him everything he needs to know before Gladio starts advancing again and pulls his hood back up, and Prompto's ready to match him in reverse every step of the way, his brows furrowing into a more serious, almost defiant look. He shivers a bit, more from anticipation of what he was afraid of more than from the cold, and his instincts are screaming to run.

"We seriously needed to talk, but... if you'd rather this go a different way..."

He manages to resist bolting for a few moments, his breath picking up slightly and showing in greater plumes of white.

"Where're you going and who're you delivering to?"

So... what he was after were the things he was delivering. Some kind of petty robber hoping for deliveries of money and valuable trinkets? Or someone with a political agenda intercepting information? Either way didn't matter.

His voice noticeably trembled when he spoke, but a little bit louder and stronger than before regardless of this. "I'm sorry but I can't tell you that. We're an honest firm and that information is between my employers and our clients and out of respect for their privacy we don't give that out. You'll have to take it up with our company if you want a different answer."

He doesn't take his eyes off of Gladio but he's watching in his peripheral vision where he is. He matches pace with Gladio's advance in his retreat, trying to give the impression he's only maintaining the same distance instead of looking to outright run, but when he catches the corner of each building on either side of him, he turns and sprints down the narrow alleyway behind him.

He hears the man growl behind him and start running after, but he doesn't bother looking back.

Prompto's hoping, at least, that the narrow alleyways will be more to his advantage. They're not narrow enough to close in on the other guy, big as Gladio is, but they're enough that maybe he'll be more maneuverable when things stop being a straight line. First and foremost on his mind is to get to where there's more people. Maybe whatever this guy wants, he won't be so bold with witnesses around.

He makes a sharp left at the first diverging option of paths, around a fence and takes a right, hoping to make Gladio lose sight of him and stop in his tracks trying to figure out where he went. The more confusing he can make things, the better, he thinks, though he's not thinking much of the snow as he goes. Still, he doesn't plan to stop even if he's lost Gladio already, weaving through narrow passages and going more by sound than sight to find his way to somewhere busier.

It doesn't go exactly as planned, hearing another irritated growl behind him and steps getting closer. Prompto is used to jogging a fair distance without tiring himself out too much, but sprinting? Sprinting more than a block or three sucks, majorly, and that's doubly so with the crisp winter air biting his lungs. He was hoping his weaving through narrow alleys would help him lose the big guy, but Gladio's size doesn't detract much from his speed. His lungs hurt more than his legs keeping up this pace, but even just hearing Gladio on his tail is enough to keep him from slowing at all.

He sees the end of the alleyway opening up into the bright white streets just ahead, spurred on. _Just a little further_ , and even without looking back he can almost _feel_ how close Gladio is to catching him, catches sight of him almost grabbing his bag with one reaching hand. He immediately starts shrieking out breathlessly as he just barely burst out from between the buildings, startling several random bystanders, " _HELP! GUARD! SOMEONE-!_ "

If Prompto had more breath in him, he would've yelled more, making as much of a fuss as he could. As it stood, what he did manage to scream out used what little breath he had left after running away, and he didn't get a chance to catch his breath enough for another shout before a hand clamped over his mouth and he was yanked back. A muffled squeal, maybe an attempted scream, rang in his throat as he instinctively tried to wrench free, reaching up to grab Gladio's arm and try to pry it away.

" _Quiet!_ "

Panic rose as he felt a tip of cold steel against his throat, his fighting growing less only because he's utterly terrified the other will slash his throat right there just to make it easier on himself. He swallows hard around a lump in his throat threatening to suffocate him, blinking back tears as he watches the open street get further away again.

 _God, this is probably how he dies and he doesn't even know why._

He hears Gladio against his ear again, " _w_ _ork with me or I will kill you,_ " the man tightening his hold on him further, and screws his eyes shut, choking down a whimper, going still more out of fear than surrender for cooperation's sake.

Gladio sighs behind him and takes the blade away from his throat, but he doesn't loosen his hold at all. Pressed with his back against the other's chest tightly, he can feel every movement, but he himself stays frozen in the man's grip at first, just trying to get adequate air through his nose.

Its hard to say, between cold, adrenaline, and terror, what the most prominent reason for Prompto's shaking is, but he's definitely shaking. He pointedly keeps his head turned away, even as he momentarily squirms for freedom, but he doesn't fight hard. Mainly because he's sure that if he does he'll be held at knife point again, or outright stabbed. Even with all his running and fighting, it doesn't quite account for his breath shuddering, bordering on hyperventilation.

"My name is Gladiolus Amicitia." Gladio whispers, tone much softer now. He finally takes his hand off of Prompto's mouth, but he tightens his hold everywhere else. "You may call me Gladio. Are you aware who you're working with, kid?"

"I-I d-don't know wh-what you're t-talking ab-bout... I-I'm j-just a c-courier! W-we j-j-just c- carry mail!"

Gladio hums in an unconvinced manner, but his grip loosens just a little bit. "The people you work for. Do you know who they are?"

Gladio loosening his hold isn't quite enough to make his anxiety subside, swallowing and breathing hard, but at the very least he doesn't have a knife against him anymore, so that's _something_. He's not sure exactly what Gladio means. He says _people_ like its plural, but he only really has one employer, unless he means their _clients_ but he can't be sure. He mentally struggles with coming up with an answer that won't just piss the other off if its not what he wants to hear.

"I-I only w-work for one person? And I- I don't know. I-if he's done something I've never seen it?" he stutters out tensely. "W-we have lots of clients a-and what they do is n-none of our business. They p-pay us to take messages a-and we deliver them. Th-that's all!"

Gladio's arm around him relaxes a bit, the threat of the hidden blade gone, but Gladio tries to reach for his bag again with a low growl. Prompto feels and sees the movement and instinctively closes his hands around the top and strap of his bag protectively, not even really thinking about the motion or what result its going to get; but its their business's well-earned reputation and money at stake if he doesn't keep the deliveries safe and untouched until they reach their intended destination. In hindsight, it could be his _life_ at stake by trying to stop Gladio from taking them, but he holds on regardless, even as he trembles with nervous energy.

"Who're you delivering to today then? Don't be shy; shyness won't lead to any good." His grip loosens a bit more. "If you cooperate with me," he whispers, glancing around to make sure no guards are coming yet. "I'll let you go and we can pretend we never saw each other. You can forget about me and we can move on with our lives. Do you understand?"

"...I-I deliver to a good forty or more people... s-so..." He pauses as the other tells him to start going down the list of names, swallowing hard. He doesn't want to, but he doesn't see how he has a choice. He starts naming them off of trembling lips, even as he keeps his fingers tight around his bag to try and keep it shut. "...B-Bill Withrop... Mary Brook... A-Ardyn Izunia..."

Amber eyes narrow further at _Ardyn Izunia_ and there's almost a relief that he was able to get that out of the messenger but he doesn't let go of Prompto just yet. Gladio hums and withdraws his hand.

"Tell me where Ardyn Izunia is located. I have... _unfinished business_ with him." He loosens his grip just a bit more, just to show Prompto how close he was to freedom once more. "You're so close... so close to winning, birdie. Just give me the address and I'll be on my way."

He feels Gladio loosen up his hold more. He wants to be done with this. He wants to get away, but for a moment he stops to weigh what that information is worth. Part of him knows he could lose his life by refusing to give that up, but this Gladio man seems _dangerous_ and... he's sure nothing good is going to come of him giving that information up. He especially doesn't like the way the other is baiting him with promises of safety and freedom, the little _pet name_ of sorts he uses when he does so.

He doesn't take too long to consider his options, mainly because he also knows stalling too long will likely change things for worse, but he can't think of a good excuse or lie that quickly and instead takes a chance on letting go of his bag to try and shove Gladio's arm off him and duck under it, to twist out of his grip and run. He's just hoping his semi-cooperation up to this point will have been enough to make the other drop his guard just enough to make that escape possible.

Gladio makes a lung to grab him for sure, but he misses, and Prompto keeps running without looking back, and fails to hear Gladio chasing him this time.

Prompto is glad that biding his time a bit worked, managing to leave Gladio behind him. He almost slams right into the guards in his escape, a bit frantic as he tells them he got attacked and where to look and what to look for and also how _big_ the other guy was. They came back finding nothing, but its still an ease off his mind to be away from that man and in one piece. He makes a point not to cross any streets that aren't busy the entire way to his other destinations, jumping at anything that even _slightly_ suggests he might not've gotten away.

He manages to make the rest of his rounds without incident, including the ones to Mr. Izunia.

He's still shaken up by then, and its obvious enough that the man asks him about it, cooing over him all the while. There's a bit of a grim atmosphere around the man when he recounts meeting Gladio, and the end of his recollections come with a warning and more cooing that he's lucky to still be alive.

Assassins - they're called. They kill people, Ardyn tells him. Muck up politics, create chaos, do whatever it takes to murder people like himself who just want to bring stability to civilization and the good people who need guidance. There's more than just Gladio, and all of them are to be avoided, unless he wants to end up dead.


	2. Chapter 2

**Messenger  
An Assassins Creed III and Final Fantasy XV Crossover  
**

* * *

There are a number of people working under the umbrella _Assassin_ , and Prompto should avoid all of them unless he wants to end up dead, Ardyn warns him.

He takes that to heart. No more alleyway shortcuts, always staying vigilant on his rounds now that they _know_ his face, staying away from places they could jump him from above... Ardyn warns him they have a favored habit of jumping people from above, on top of rooftops and catwalk pathways between them, because no one expects it. Its almost their trademark.

The time he met Gladio in the alleyway is not the last time he sees anyone matching the descriptions Ardyn gave him, dressed in white and red robes, but he's a lot more quick to spot them now. Every time he does, he makes it a point to go the other way, before they spot him or have a chance to get close if they already have. He actually gets quite good at it, with a little practice. He starts losing track of how many heel-face turns he's had to do in the several weeks since that time. At one point, he's sure he even spots the same big, burly man again, with others dressed the same as him, but he doesn't stick around long enough to confirm it. Considering he's rarely seen anyone quite so big though, he has few doubts.

Its strange how different the city seems to look when he has to be so aware of his surroundings, and even more when he was hyper-aware with the threat of people who might want to kill him just for carrying mail. Then again, he was warned that, at times, there are those who want to get a hold of important documents, and its part of his job to safeguard them. Quite a few of his employer's clients are well-involved in local politics. Its quite an honor that they be trusted to carry such important documents, even if they only take some of them.

A change of pace comes when his employer gets a few jobs that'll take him outside the city, past his usual routes.

Their delivery service does pretty well, but more than that, Mr. Izunia seems to have a liking towards him and a higher trust that he can get things done right where others can't. Its enough praise to make him glow a little, and it'd be nice to have deliveries where he doesn't have to be hyper-vigilant for once.

Still, its... a little bit unnerving. He's never been out to the frontier before or other towns on his own. Certainly, he's taken cart-rides with others on the rare occasion, but never alone, and never having to navigate the terrain himself. He really hopes there's no wild animals, but hopefully, on horseback and following clear, main rods, he won't be long enough reaching his destinations that he'll cross paths with any animals anyway.

Its a bit different being outside the city making his rounds on horseback. For one, its colder. Or at least, it _feels_ colder, since he's not moving around so much. Normally all the running around keeps his blood moving and, even though he can still feel the chill, its nowhere near as bad. Now is a little less bearable, a little more windy and a lot more quiet.

In its own way, its nice. Less bustle, not having to look over his shoulder so much to make sure people aren't following him... though he checks behind him a few times down the road just to be sure.

He shivers a bit in the saddle, slouching in the hopes it'll help him stay warmer, and he can't help glancing to the sides and back with the impression he's being watched all of a sudden.

Maybe he's... just being paranoid. But maybe he's not.

He purses his lips, watching, and for a moment he thinks he sees something large move in the trees. He squints, but then his horse falters and shifts with a nervous wicker, dancing to the side and snorting, tossing its head up.

It makes him more alert, but his attention shifts to what's in front rather than behind. Something moves again, something just as big as what he thinks he might've seen before. Only a few seconds more, and whatever he glanced, its _huge_ and it comes bounding down the cliffs, screeching like a demon as it lunges at him and his horse.

The equine startles with a panicked bray and turns, kicking backwards before taking off into the snow before Prompto can even think to steer the animal any other way.

Plowing through the snow, it takes his own panicked mind a bit to realize how far off the path they've wandered, and by the time it actively registers in his mind, the world is spinning as his horse is toppled over, sending him rolling through the snow. The sounds his horse makes as the _monster cat_ clamps over its throat are some of the worst sounds he's ever heard, but even more pressing, it turns on _him_ , prowling forward and screeching madly.

Prompto can't help breathing hard until he's almost choking on gasps. He manages to find enough sense not to whimper in fright, even as he starts quickly crab-walking backwards, though the deep snow makes it difficult.

Staring down already-bloodied jaws is terrifying, but what really gets him are the _eyes_ ; intense, focused, unflinching. If wild cats could speak, the look it gave now would be as clear as an _I'm going to kill you_ from a person.

It was going to kill him and feel nothing for it, and that was a fact colder and harder than the bitter winter air around him or frozen earth beneath him.

The cat roared at him and pounced, and its only by pure instinct he thinks to draw his small handgun and fire.

He _thinks_ he hit it, but everything happens so fast he's not sure.

He's pinned underneath the animal faster than he can blink, bright blue sky and grey clouds blocked out by brown fur and a flurry of kicked up snow. The only thing that saves him from massive fangs ripping out his throat is they're too busy ravaging his arm and coat sleeve, not quite sure which screams are his own and which belong to the mountain lion.

For what feels eternities longer than it is, the only thing Prompto knows is that he's in the middle of nowhere and he's going to die, _going to die, doing to die_. The pain in his arm makes him sick even through the adrenaline, trying to push the big cat off but its far stronger and heavier than he is. Then he thinks it lets go, but he's not completely sure, and it screams in his close-eyed face, writhing and yowling on top of him.

For several gasping moments, he doesn't register that its weight is gone off of him, or that its vicious noises have stopped. By the time he does realize it, he curls over on himself, cradling his bloody arm against his stomach.

When he manages to get some clarity through his panicked haze, clear his vision, its to an offered, bloody hand and a voice. "You alright?" Its a familiar voice somehow, but he can't place from where.

He's still shaking too badly from the attack and he can't seem to get his eyes to focus on anything properly. He blinks several times, trying just to breathe, and his eyes dart in search of the big cat, only to find it dead and bloody in the snow.

Its... dead?

And he's... still breathing.

He can see his breath.

He's alive. Hurt, but alive.

He still hardly notices the person near him, much less recognize who it is, still trying to come to terms with what all happened.

"Hey... you still with us? Do you need help back?" The hand is still extended, although it backs off a little, and the person hums quietly. "Can you move your arm?"

For several beats, Prompto doesn't response at all to the question, simply catching his breath and closing his eyes, part of him in disbelieve and another counting his blessings and thanking the heavens for not letting him die out here, being torn limb from limb by a wild animal.

Finally he nods, shakily, and his eyes crack open to wander to the offered hand. "...I-I... yeah, I'm... I'll live."

He starts to reach out and almost takes the hand, but its too familiar in a way he doesn't like suddenly, his gaze wandering further to the other's face, and his breath catches in his throat when the realization hits him, pursing his lips in a tight light.

Shit. _Shit._

Suddenly he's not so sure he's happy to be saved when the face he recognizes is Gladio's. It wasn't a blessing. It was a god damn omen.

His thoughts only stall him for a moment, before he quickly retracts his good arm and scrambles back as fast as he can, trying to find his feet despite how cold his legs are and how shaky he already is. He doesn't wait to hear a single word the assassin has to offer, turning around to bolt.

He hears Gladio start after him, calling out roughly "Hey! Hey, stop!"

He's not listening. Mister Izunia warned him not to, that they're dangerous. They'll say anything to get what they want and when they get it, they'll probably kill him. The snow is thick and his legs are still shaking and not wanting to move, but he forces his body anyway, bursting out of the thicker snow onto a more shallow, flat stretch. Its much easier and makes him that much quicker, less impeded, and he picks up his pace.

"You're going to fall in if you go any further!" He hears the words Gladio says behind him, but he doesn't quite register what they mean and he's not sure he cares.

Its a thought that's there one moment and gone the next, just as fast as the ground gives out under him and he falls straight down and everything turns black and ice cold for a moment. Without thinking, he gasps and his airways fill with liquid ice, making him cough for air and find only more sharp, liquid ice. Its a moment of raw, stupid panic, flailing to find the sky, open air, something familiar through painful cold.

He manages to make out some semblance of what might be light, faint as it is, but trying to move in the direction he thinks might be up (its so hard to tell where he is), he just hits a solid wall that slips right by him anyway.

The panic, as powerful as it is, is short-lived, tumbling blindly through blackness, barely able to feel his own body except ice like daggers in his lungs, faintness crushing down on him with growing rapidity. His thoughts were already too deep in a haze to think of death, only that everything was slipping away faster than he could recognize it.

He doesn't even feel Gladio grab a hold of his jacket, one thread of consciousness by another quickly slipping away from him until the only thing he can register is cold, and even that starts to drift away from him.

He doesn't think it could get any colder, but it does, the same time as it gets brighter again. Painfully bright, even. For a moment that's all he recognizes is stark white, and its a fleeting moment he finally thinks that he's dead. More of an idle musing than anything.

Reality comes crashing back in full, unpleasant force when he manages to get the smallest snatch of air as water escapes his nose, and then another, and he sputters painfully over icy water that his body starts trying to heave and hack out in rattling force. Its air that enters his lungs, but it burns just as sharply with every inhale and ragged cough, curling on himself in the snow. A firm hand hits his back several times to help him hack up water.

It feels like forever before he's able to draw in a single breath without choking on it, and even then he wouldn't say its an improvement, his limbs locked up and too cold to move, chattering his teeth through blue-tinted lips.

He curls on himself tighter, thinking for more than a few seconds if this was how it felt coming back to life, he'd rather have stayed dead. He's not on the ground long before arms pick him out of the snow bridle-style and hold onto him tightly, starting to walk.

"Don't you die on me now," Gladio mutters, voice tense through clenched teeth.

Its surreal enough he wonders if he really did die or if he's close enough to it that he's hallucinating when Gladio picks him up. Either way, though the thought of a threat is there, he finds he doesn't care enough to pull away and neither does his body. It takes no time at all for him to curl closer to his chest, even though Gladio is just as dripping wet and almost as frozen as he is.

Almost as cold.

And that _almost_ is enough difference that instinct overpowers doubt, trying to press himself closer in the hope it will help stave off painful cold even a little, silent save for chattering teeth and too-quick, full-body shivering breathing.

It takes a great deal of time, but Gladio finally manages to take them both to a roadside inn. At some point before they reach it, Prompto slips out of consciousness curled in Gladio's arms, but even so he keeps trying to nestle against his chest and away from the cold air. He shivers the whole way there and then some after they reach the building, the water in his hair having turned to ice.

He barely manages a half-coherent whine of protest at being stripped of his clothes, but its a short-lived protest that dies away feeling dry cloth rubbing down his skin and hair and a blanket dropped over him to curl up in, which he immediately gathers up like a cocoon.

Gladio (he assumes its Gladio anyway, but can't be bothered to open his eyes) crawls in next to him and wraps thick arms around him, pulling him close and curling around his smaller form with his own shivering and slightly-chattering teeth.

Gladio's warmth is far from unwelcome, despite that his overall presence would have been any other time. He doesn't even think of who it is, nor does he care, scooting in close thoughtlessly. He's too exhausted and still too cold to think of anything as complex as friends and enemies.

He falls into deeper unconsciousness with the simple satisfaction of another body nearby sharing its warmth, until his shivering ebbs away little by little and his rest is only interrupted by the occasional fit of rough, haggard coughing.


	3. Chapter 3

**Messenger  
An Assassins Creed III and Final Fantasy XV Crossover  
**

* * *

Being away from the city is nice. Noctis and Ignis were taking care of business elsewhere and as for Gladio, he had the day to himself. And when those days came around, he always went out on the frontier to hunt and enjoy the quiet for a while.

His hunting had been mostly successful and he had been sure to put his game where the wolves and mountain lions couldn't get to it. And now that meant that he could relax, having food for the night. The only thing he had left to worry about was finding shelter.

Having climbed a tree, he watches the world below him, finding peace in just that. He takes a deep breath, the wind ruffling his hair and he blinks slowly. He's alone, or so he thinks he's alone, hearing the sound of hooves hit the ground. He turns, expecting to see those bumbling idiots patrolling the area, but instead he catches a familiar face.

 _It's that messenger._

It still slightly vexed him how the other had managed to slip out of his grasp and get away, but he'd given up the chase at the time despite the increased urge to follow through on his threat and kill him, since it was likely the guard would be on him soon. Besides, he needed information before he could kill him. He'd decided then that he'd track the kid down later, after he made himself scarce.

That had proven a little more difficult than he hoped for. What few times he managed to catch sight of him, the kid turned and disappeared faster than he could follow. It wasn't on accident and it wasn't just him. He dodged all of the assassins wherever he went, and for the time being, they decided it wasn't worth it to hunt him down. The kid was a symptom, not a cause, and the Templar's were a problem that needed to be ripped out at the roots. Kill the messenger, they'd just find another one.

He'd sworn he'd get the information _next time_ , if that time came at all, and silently lamented that maybe they should have sent Noctis. Noctis probably could've done better and not scared him so bad, but... what was done was done.

Now, he watches as the horse passes and he slowly begins to follow, moving carefully through the trees, trying to remain as silent as could be. This could be his next opportunity...

An opportunity that almost slips through his fingers again. At first, Gladio doesn't even notice the mountain lion. But it doesn't take him long, considering the way the horse starts acting and his eyes narrow, searching for the threat, only to see it bounding down the cliffs.

Before he has time to react, the horse takes off and the mountain lion sprints off after it. His first instinct is to jump down and chase after them, but he hesitates. Dealing with a mountain lion out here was dangerous enough. If Ignis and Noctis were with him, it wouldn't be much of a problem. But by himself? He has confidence, but mountain lions were a force to be reckoned with. Regardless, he knows if he hesitates too long, his person of interest will be dead.

He heaves a sigh and jumps down, making sure he doesn't hurt himself in the process. There's a sting in his ankles where he hits the ground yet he rolls to hopefully help. Jumping up, he chases after the messenger and the mountain lion. Hearing the screams shortly after, he cusses to himself before trying to run just a little bit faster.

It takes him longer than he likes to see the mountain lion pinning the blond down. He doesn't even think, acting on natural instinct. He moves quickly, quietly, and shoves a blade through the back of the lion's neck.

After a moment of struggling with it, its screeches die down as he shoves the blade further. He throws the lion to the side, looking at the messenger and blinking.

Blood. There's blood all over his hands. But he doesn't care right now. The horse is dead and there's blood everywhere. He offers his hand, taking a deep breath. "Are you alright?"

The messenger doesn't respond to him. There's a moment of concern that maybe there's a wound that he doesn't see, but after quickly scanning him over, he can see it's just his arm. He can take care of that quite easily. He'd patch it up.

He steps back, enough to give him space for when the disorientation of shock passed. After all, even if the kid was with the Templars, he's internally questioning if the messenger knew that. "Hey... you still with us? Do you need help back?" His hand is still extended and he hums quietly. "Can you move your arm?"

Gladio watches him and the realization hits him too late that the messenger's going to run. He heaves a sigh, dashing off after him and cursing under his breath. He had to get to him before he makes the mistake of running onto the thin ice of the river, which is concealed by the snow, but he knows the territories that used to belong to his people well. He tries to warn him about it, but the other doesn't even slow.

Gladio reaches out for him, as if that'd do any good, as he plummets into the river. Without hesitating, he dives into the water, knowing that if he doesn't succeed, this could be the end of both of them.

He squeezes his eyes shut and swims even as the current tries to sweep him away without mercy, holding his breath and his lungs start to burn. He can only do this for so long.

Gladio goes on though and starts trying to grab for him. For a few moments, he thinks that maybe it's late and the young man is already gone until he's able to grab what he thinks is his coat. He forces his eyes open and catches sight of a familiar blond and swims up. He has to get out. He can't hold his breath much longer.

He hits the ice with his fist and is able to surface, making sure the blond is on the bank before he pulls himself up, coughing and gasping. His hair clings to his face but he's not done yet. He looks at the other, who shows he's alive by hacking and coughing after several delayed moments. He's breathing heavily himself and at the moment, he doesn't care that he's cold and tired and wet. He'd get the somewhere warm soon, before the cold and the wolves could get them both.

" _Goddamn..._ "

* * *

It takes a bit to get to the inn and he holds the blond as close as he can, explaining what happened to the innkeeper and after the innkeeper leads him to the room and leaves, Gladio starts stripping them both of their clothes. He finds a cloth that he can dry the messenger off with, and he lays him in bed, covering him with the thick blanket.

He hesitates for a moment before moving to lay with him, getting as close as he can. It takes a minute or two before the warmth starts setting in and exhaustion hits him. His eyes flutter a few times before they close and sleep almost immediately comes to him. Unconsciously, he curls around the blond, giving a tired hum. _At least they're alive._

Gladio's sleep is only interrupted by the coughing fits that the other keeps having and he opens one eye to make sure he's alright after the coughing stops. It wasn't always someone like this kid was close to him like this. Others he would've already killed, and in the messenger's case, he would've let him drown, or at least left him to freeze or get picked off by predators after retrieving the messages he needed.

Yet, he had saved him. It's odd...

He buries his face in locks of blond and gives a breathless sigh.

Falling back into the clutches of sleep, it's dreamless for once. And the next time he comes to just a bit of his senses, he realizes he has an arm draped over the other. It's a brief moment of consciousness and he doesn't even care to move. After almost freezing to death, it's nice to be warm. Even if it's with someone that could be a potential threat, but Gladio's almost certain he can handle him if it comes down to it.

That the messenger starts to stir is obvious to him, but only enough to snuggle closer to him, and he can't help but be amused even if he doesn't open his eyes. He stays quiet, simply musing to himself that this was an odd yet pleasing experience.

Despite the death that could have been involved.

He simply decides to enjoy this for a moment longer, nuzzling against him and giving a low purr-like rumble in the back of his throat. He even goes so far as to curl around him a bit more, trying to enjoy what he's sure are the last moments of warmth. It wasn't often he was able to enjoy the simpleness of being close to someone.

He nuzzles in another time, knowing that the messenger is likely to flee in the next few moments. But... perhaps with a bit of persuasion... he can talk to him. But for now, he's not saying a word.

* * *

Its a very rare occurrence that Prompto manages to get so warm, much less in sleep. Rather, it simply never happens, at least not in winter, and not for a lack of trying.

His employer provides him board for his work, but its only a little more than bare minimum, never freezing but never quite as comfortable as he'd like either.

In sleep, he doesn't even think about it, nestling into the heat, tucking his head down against it. Its nice. He hopes every time he sleeps will be this nice again. Nestled against the warmth of another body, the sound of a heartbeat in his ears, firm arms around him.

For a time, he accepts it all as just a really good dream, even when his coughing briefly rattles him half-awake until he falls back into sleep. Its a good, long rest that he hopes his employer won't mind, stretching his legs out with a tremble and a sleepy groan, that mostly ends the same as things before; nuzzling against Gladio's chest and humming contently.

At some point though, this time is different in that he realizes something is off.

The more he stirs, the more he realizes the warmth isn't his imagination, blinking his eyes open hazily. He's-

...where is he?

 _And who is he with?_

He barely recalls anything at all, much less anything useful, and its a small surge of rising panic that brings him more alert. And what he discovers in coming more awake is he is very, _very_ , _much too close_ to someone he _shouldn't be_.

He noticeably freezes up and his breathing goes almost unnoticeably shallow and quiet, like a small animal trying to blend in and make another, bigger animal forget its there or maybe even think its dead.

Biting his lower lip in a tight purse, he doesn't make a sound once realization sets in, not reacting at all to being snuggled against and curled around.

But he's very, very tense. Impossible-not-to-notice tense.

 _Gods, what does he do?_ He has nowhere to go and he doesn't see pulling away doing him much good, with the others' arms around him.

Especially not after running away before, _he'll expect it, won't he?_

He'll probably cut his throat, or...

 _What might he have done already?!_

Its so hazy in his memory how he even go here and he starts trembling with anxiety, swallowing hard around a lump in his throat and his breathing coming more shakily, agitating his throat until he starts sputtering on another fit of coughing.

Gladio suddenly stretches his arms over his head before curling up again around him, though he's not sure the man is awake. Not until after he exhales a deep breath.

"Sorry I didn't take you out to dinner first."

He tenses further, if that's even possible, and when he hears Gladio _speak_ to him in that rough baritone, he finally moves. He pushes Gladio away with hands on his chest, rolling to get out of bed and unintentionally takes some of the blankets with him as he falls to the floor.

At first he goes to scramble to his feet and bolt for the door, and he halfway makes it there, before the realization hits him that he's _completely naked_ , underwear and all, and lets out a flush-faced squeak of indignity. He doesn't even _consider_ leaving the room without clothing, yanking up the blanket on the ground to cover himself with and instead backing into a wall, bordering on hyperventilating.

 _Gods. Lying naked in someone else's bed. And a man's at that. A man he's sure wants to kill him._

"What'd you do?!" The demand comes out as a high-pitched squeak, still beet-red, a startling contrast to his light blond hair and otherwise pale skin.

Gladio watches him with deadpan expression. With an entirely unimpressed look, he hums, closing his eyes for a moment only to reopen them and blink slowly. "I saved you." He yawns, shrugging a shoulder, almost nonchalantly. "A mountain lion attacked you and killed your horse. It would've killed you too if I hadn't stepped in. Then you ran from me and fell through the ice of the river. I saved you from drowning and freezing to death." A soft huff as his eyes narrow. "You're welcome."

A small pause before he starts again. "The mountain lion hurt your arm. I have yet to tend to it. But your clothes are drying and should be dry within the next few hours." He rolls over to his other side and puts his back to Prompto, closing his eyes once more, this time, keeping them closed. "However, if you're fine going out there and freezing to the brink of death again, go ahead."

At first Prompto watches Gladio with lips pursed in a tight line, brows knitted closely together, and visibly bristles at the very sight of the man. Even more because - _oh gods_ \- he's _completely_ naked and- and- _they were laying together_. _Laying together naked_. And he-

Oh, the number of days he was going to be spending in confession after this, assuming he lived that long.

He was honestly waiting for the worst, whatever _'the worst'_ was, for the other to spring up and attack him, slash his throat or worse. Instead...

Instead came claims of _saving his life_ , and it took a great deal of conscious effort to recall everything Gladio was talking about.

A glance at his ravaged arm, which he was only now realizing _how badly_ it burned, backed up what Gladio was saying. _And he did remember that monster cat_. He couldn't recall a river...

When..?

Or maybe... he recalled cold, and darkness, and choking...

Oh.

Oh, then that was... but then he-?

For a moment his eyes wandered the floor boards with a look of intense concentration, trying to piece all the memories back together until he had a solid chain of events in his mind. His breathing settles more evenly for a moment, glancing back up. He finds it _much_ easier to keep focus when its Gladio's bare back facing him instead of those smoldering eyes and the chiseled lines of his face.

He breathed in slowly, then let it out just the same.

"...why would you do that?"

Gladio's silent for a moment before he sighs tiredly, relaxing a bit. "I'm not as heartless as you've probably been led to believe, and you still have time to change." There's a moment where he goes so quiet he seems to almost drift off into sleep. "Don't make me regret what I've done."

Prompto furrows his brows and narrows his eyes, turning his head almost into a tilt of both confusion and suspicion.

There has to be something more to it. Its far too simple. Too nondescript to pass for a real reason.

And 'don't make him regret it'? What does that even mean? _He's_ not the one who threatened and hunted down the other. Just what sort of game was he playing at?

Whatever it was, he'd gotten his warning, and this was all too strange to just shrug off and say his thanks as if the _last_ time they met, Gladio didn't hold a blade to his neck.

"You're after something," he states in a matter-of-fact tone, like he won't be persuaded to believe anything less. Even as he says it, he glances towards his clothes, silently inching closer to them and hoping he can go unnoticed. Maybe if he keeps them talking long enough, the rustle of clothing with go unheard. Whatever happened, he needed to get away from this man. He was still physically larger and dangerous. Dangerous enough to take down a mountain lion like it was nothing. "I know who you are you know. You and your friends. You- you're murderers. You kill people however it suites you, just like you tried to kill me."

"At the moment, I'm not after anything." It's spoken in a low growl, menacing growl. "And just who told you that? Ardyn Izunia? You believe him. Good for you. But perhaps you need to look past the surface because he's not what he claims to be."

Prompto hears him spit the name _Ardyn Izunia_ like its a poison. He doesn't understand it. Just what do any of them have against him? The man is odd, sure, but his words are always softly spoken and reassuring, and the things he speaks of wanting... they're _good_ things. A perfect world, which... the world as it is now is not, but he was going to change things.

It was something he knew the man was deeply passionate about, and he couldn't help believing in the vision Ardyn wanted to make into reality, no matter how many people thought it wasn't possible. The world needed more people who believed in that, didn't it? A world without suffering, with real equality? He couldn't see good in someone who was _against_ that.

"You're naive. Grow up and face reality, kid. We aren't living in a fucking perfect world." It's now that he sits up and turns to look at Prompto again, eyes burning with a deep-rooted hatred. "You think you may know everything but you don't. We do what we have to. So shut the fuck up."

Every inhale Prompto takes shudders in his chest and makes his bare shoulders quiver. Even only sitting there, Gladio intimidates _the Hell_ out of him, and its near impossible not to show his fear, but there's also a touch of stubborn defiance, trying to stay strong regardless.

"Mister Izunia is a good man that just wants to bring order and stability to the new world. I know we don't live in a perfect world, not yet... but... maybe he'll be the one that changes that. Its people like you that keep it from being that way."

It doesn't take Gladio long at all to stand up and lung at Prompto, grabbing him by his throat and lifting him into the air. Prompto's not exactly _not_ expecting it, but he isn't exactly expecting Gladio to lung at him either, instinctively trying to retreat and going from red in embarrassment to pale with fear. He doesn't make it far, with nowhere to go and Gladio is _much_ faster than his size implies.

He chokes out a startled noise, one hand closing around Gladio's wrist while the other is still on the blanket trying to retain whatever _dignity_ he has left, as if that matters at all. Gladio snarls before growling something Prompto can't understand, glaring up at him.

For a moment he just dangles, and Ardyn's words ring through his head again, informing him of _**danger**_. That the Assassins were _dangerous_ and would kill him.

He hardly even gets the chance to kick or fight back before the sound of a door closing reaches his ears and he's dropped back on his ass, grunting out something not-quite-a-squeak, but almost.

"Why're you naked?" The voice is one he's unfamiliar with and still reeling when he hears it. "And who is he?"

He manages to look past Gladio's ankle from the ground. Really, he wasn't expecting anyone, but certainly not someone who looked to be around his own age, with black hair and paler skin than Gladio's tanned complexion.

Part of him had almost hoped it would be someone that might help him, but immediately recognizing the other's attire as an assassin garb, that hope died quickly and horribly. When he thinks on how casual and familiar the voice spoke to Gladio, he's not sure why he thought it would be anything more to his favor.

"It's not what you think." Gladio huffs. "And he's the messenger I've mentioned."

"Uh huh... I see." The young man takes a deep breath before reaching into his bag and looking Prompto over for a moment, seeming to contemplate something. "Ardyn's on our tail. We've gotta get moving."

Another huff from Gladio as he goes to grab his slightly damp clothes, grumbling under his breath all the while.

The younger assassin shakes his head with a sigh before turning his attention to Prompto, quirking a brow. "Will you be joining us?"

Prompto's silent through the whole exchange, watching them both. At first he almost wonders if the younger one is looking for something specific in his bag. Something to use against him. There's clear, wary distrust in his eyes, which briefly follow Gladio as he moves for his clothes. The question makes him furrow his brows suspiciously, turning his head a bit to give the ravenette the side-eye.

His response comes very quietly, but with a notable guarded tone. "...and what if I refuse?" Sure, he's almost betting they'll prove his fears right, but that'd mean his death and that is an outcome he'd definitely rather avoid.

"It doesn't matter." The other replies, glancing at the door before back at Prompto. "You're not a problem so we don't have a reason to harm you." He gives a small shake of his head before looking to Gladio, crossing his arms over his chest. "However, if you are to stay here, we can't promise you'll be safe."

Its not what he expects to hear, but just because the other preaches nice words doesn't mean he means them, even if the other black-haired male is far less scary than Gladio. However, the implications of a _lack of safety_ puts him on edge. Is that a threat? Its hard for him to tell. The other doesn't make it _sound_ like a threat, but who was to say it wasn't?

Gladio shoots Prompto a look, pulling his hood up. Prompto gives him a wary look in return, standing up slightly so he can shuffle as far away from the larger man as possible.

Gladio gives a small huff before starting for the door. Shifting a bit, he curses about his garb still being damp. Sighing, he cracks the door open, preparing for them to make their escape. "We don't have much time." Gladio growls, still clearly irritated. "Make your decision."

It surprises him that they both make to leave when he's _still alive_ , but regardless of whether or not they've killed him, he still doesn't trust them. He doesn't voice it, or anything really, staring mutely but intensely with clear distrust on his face.

Another muttered... something that he can't understand but assumes is an insult, Gladio glares for a moment before turning his attention to the black-haired male. They have a silent exchange and move for the door. The younger of the two assassins glances at Prompto one more time and he gives a sad smile before they're both gone.

Its not until they leave that Prompto realizes just how much he'd been holding his breath, as much as was possible without stopping breathing entirely. He's not really sure he's _safe_ , but at least he doesn't have eyes on him where he needs to hide just how rattled he is. Admittedly, its a relief, one Prompto welcomes with sinking to the floor with his back against the wall behind him, keeping the blanket gathered over him and simply forcing himself to take even breaths and calm his racing heart.

Just in time for the man in question to all of them, Ardyn, appears, all dressed in his fine clothes and hat imported from France. He doesn't waste any time in walking over to Prompto with a look of worry on his face. "You poor thing..." He says softly. "What happened to you?"


End file.
